The Best Woman
by AnaG
Summary: Ten years and many relationships past them, Edward and Bella find themselves about to get married - to other people. One encounter brings forth everything that's never been said. One night, two possible endings. AU/AH
1. Getting Married

Clutching the metal railing with one hand and burying my chin in my heavy scarf, I take a long pull of my beer.

Who even does that? Drink an ice cold beer in the middle of January, outside?

Edward laughs his silky chuckle beside me, making me remember. We do.

"We're getting married!" I laugh back, but the sound dies abruptly, hangs sadly in the air between us, stretching, painful.

We're staring straight ahead, not looking at each other, preferring to observe the ferry boats currently crossing the freezing waters of Seattle.

"How did that happen?" he murmurs, something I'm not quite sure I'm supposed to hear.

And I know exactly how it happened.

When I first moved to Forks, there was an instant bond between us, something neither could deny. I never did get him to confess it to me, but I suspected that, at that time, he'd tried to put some distance between us, unsuccessfully.

He was the most coveted guy in High School, and the pretty girls were always slipping him phone numbers and asking him out. He was already dating someone when we met, and I couldn't help but feel the pain that came with unrequited love.

Because I knew I loved him from day one. I'd just hoped it wasn't so. I waited for it to ebb, for it to stop mattering so damn much, but it never had.

And then there was Jacob.

He was radiant, funny, and understood me very well. It was impossible not to feel attracted to him and, even if what I felt for him couldn't compare with my feelings towards Edward, he was still there for me.

By the time Edward broke up with Lauren, I'd already been out with Jacob a couple of times.

We moved past it, enjoying our time together in school. With Jacob in La Push and his next girlfriend being from Port Angeles, we had time for each other. Time during which I always felt guilty for not missing my boyfriend.

Graduation came and went, and we both moved to Seattle to attend College; not together, never together, but close enough to never lose touch.

And there was a Kate and a Felix in the mix, at first. Then there was Jane - a sadistic bitch, if you ask me - who introduced me to her brother, Alec, gallant but cold. More came and went, never leaving a dent. Not in our hearts, not in our relationship.

And certainly not in the way I felt about him.

There were small or longer periods during which one of us was single, but never at the same time.

Even if that had been the case, I probably would have never said anything. I probably would have never acted on my feelings. Just the thought of becoming just another name on his contact list, just another woman he wants nothing to do with ever again, was enough to stun me into cowardice.

The doubles were the worst, because we'd instinctively ignore our dates for the night as much as possible. And, as the evening drew to a close, I regretted only one thing: that it was the closest I'd ever be to dating Edward.

The _coup de grâce_ waltzed in our lives in the form of Tanya. Strawberry blond, all legs, intelligent above average Tanya. And I knew right then and there that the window of opportunity had finally closed. I finally stopped answering Edward's calls, and refused to meet the two of them. I didn't want to see what his eyes would look like, locked on her.

A couple of weeks later, Mike showed up at my workplace, representing one of the writers my editor was interested in, and we went out for coffee, a stroll, and, finally, lunch. Being with him was effortless, and his worshiping nature didn't hurt any. I wasn't head over heels in love, I wasn't insanely happy, but I was content. He was a good man, and his love was solid and comforting.

Six months later, Edward called, and a four minute long talk had brought us here at two in the morning.

"I can't believe you're marrying Newton."

I just nod. After years spent dodging him in High School, it certainly seems like an interesting story to tell my children.

"Does he still have that scar?" Edward insists, and I can just see the cocky smile that's gracing his face.

"Yep, the one on his brow. I still think you were just exaggerating."

"He was practically mauling you against the lockers, Bella…" he cuts in, and I have to laugh. It's as if we never lost touch.

"I'm not. Surprised, I mean," I add, seeing his face turn to me in my peripheral vision. "I knew Tanya was the girl you were going to marry the first time I saw her. She's just… perfect for you," I say, hoping he doesn't hear the dripping sadness. The envy. The regret.

"I'm supposed to be having a bachelor's party," he states, after taking another pull from the beer. "When it came to actually making a list… I gave up pretty quickly. The only one I wanted to talk to, the only one I wanted to celebrate this with - was you."

"Just so we're clear, I'm not taking you to a strip club," I rasp out, fighting off emotion, and hear him choke on his beer. "And you better get your ass back to Seattle in time to come to my wedding."

"I wouldn't miss it," he whispers, and I can feel the hurt coming off of him in waves. Even if he hadn't contacted me first, I would have still sent him an invitation. He doesn't know that though.

"So, what is it you want to do?" I ask, after clearing my throat.

"I'll leave my best woman in charge of that."

I feel the hot stinging tears fill my eyes, and bite back a sob. That's exactly what I am, what I'll always be.

His best woman.

"How about a mani and a pedi?" I throw out there, getting a hold of myself, just for the sake of seeing him grimace.

"How about a DVD and a bucket of popcorn? You have a decent sized couch yet, Swan?"

I chuckle, remembering us crammed together on my tiny scuffed couch. It stayed with me all the way through High School and College.

"Actually, I do. C'mon, let's hurry up or the groom won't get his beauty sleep."

We walk the distance back to my house, empty chatter filling the steps between us. I can't put my heart into it, and maybe he's still hurt that I vanished, because he's not quite there either.

The apartment is empty, and I bless my good decision of keeping it until the wedding. At the moment, I want nothing to do with Mike.

I shrug off my coat and receive his compliments about the space I call home. He makes no move to approach my rack of DVDs, standing before me instead.

"I missed you."

I can't divert my eyes here, and taking him in hurts. He's still the same - crazy hair, depthless green eyes, skin that begs to be touched, the chest I want to rest my head on.

"I missed you, too."

I start crying silently, because I can't stop it, and his strong arms encompass me, soothing me.

"Why did you shut me out, Bella?" he whispers in my ear, and I break through the steel bars of my own prison - my common sense, my self-doubt, my certainties about our friendship.

"I shut myself out. Have you ever thought about how much it hurt me, seeing you be happy with another woman? Have you ever thought about how my stomach churned each time I wanted to tell you… To tell you…"

I break off, because the nerves are getting to me. I'm too emotional. And because I'm marrying another man in less than four weeks. And he's marrying another woman in less than twenty-four hours.

"Don't say it," he whispers, and I cry more freely. His thoughts replicate mine. "Do you have any regrets, Bella?"

I scoff.

"I regret so, so many things. Do you?"

His body stiffens against mine for a moment, but then he steps forward minutely. His chest comes to rest closely again my own, and his presence is heavier. My mind falters.

Edward steps forward yet again, and I keep walking back, in small, unsteady paces, trying to put some distance between us.

The armrest of my couch comes in contact with the back of my knees, and I gulp loudly, trapped between all I want and the certainty that I'll never have it. _Him._

But he pushes forward still, making me fall onto the couch. In shock, my breathing picks up, as I see him strip his grey wool sweater and t-shirt in one move.

His eyes are blazing, dark as charcoal, and he opens his mouth to ask a question I don't need to hear.

"Don't say it," I answer, reaching forward to grab onto his hips, pulling him to crash above me.

I don't think about it and I don't analyze it, because I don't care.

My body is stripped naked and inched up to occupy the full extent of the couch, and I don't care that I'm exposed, on display.

I hear the distant sound of cars passing my apartment building, and I know the door isn't locked. A platinum ring, having always been too big, slides off my finger and falls onto the cushy floor, silently. I don't care that I might lose it.

I close my eyes and feel Edward pull away. I know he's watching me, but, if I'm not to care, I can't do the same.

A searing kiss on my calve makes me squirm, only seconds before the sensitive skin behind the knee receives the same treatment.

Eager hands scorch the skin of my legs, my thighs, my hips, my stomach, and I keep my eyes closed, incoherent fragments of whispers tumbling from my lips.

He's everywhere all at once, dragging me with him.

I suck and bite at his neck, causing him to moan, the reverberating sound seeping into my own chest and burning me.

One of his hands inches up to touch my breast and I suck a breath, arching, wanting more. Edward nuzzles my other peak, slowly, deliberately driving me to insanity. His long, thin fingers travel the extent of my hipbone and nudge my legs apart, as he kneels.

The second I feel them tracing me, discovering me, all the memories push violently against the barrier I put firmly in place. I fight it so that it doesn't rupture, and concentrate on the feel of his skin, suddenly clawing at his back when a single fingers enters me, a silent moan of pleasure leaving me opened mouthed.

His lips touch mine for the first time ever, and I lose the battle, because it's wrong.

My world ruptures, and I do care.

My minds drifts away to everything - and everyone - I don't want to have in that room with us.

_It's still worth it. _Or so I try to convince myself.

His motions gain speed and strength, his own body taught in his need to feel and let go. I unravel in his arms, shuddering, trying to soothe the skin my nails scraped.

His own languid, soft movements are now meant to lull me, but I'll have none of it.

For years, I felt the same pull.

For years, he had over me the type of control that led me to forsake everything else for him. That still leads me to it.

But, if for tonight, I want a taste of control.

I push on his chest, getting him to sit back, and stand, finally opening my eyes. Disheveled, flushed, panting, _needing_ me - the sight of him almost breaks me.

I touch him, slowly, watching him bite his lip until the flesh turns white, before taking it between my own.

I move to straddle him, expecting no resistance, but he still stiffens in surprise. I take him in just as my heart had - all at once, blurring the line between pleasure and pain.

His hands come to rest on my hips, holding them in place with sufficient force to bruise, and I shudder again, the cold air hitting the moist skin of my back.

When I finally move against him, I know this is what my body was made for. Again and again, we crash and pull away from each other, unable to hold back, to fight off the escalating aggression and pleasure. We're drowning, and it's too late to turn back.

And it's my lips he's kissing as he lets go, just seconds after me. But he's still clinging to my body.

We don't say anything as he keeps me crushed against his chest, lowering us both onto the sizeable couch.

Less than four hours later, I wake up in an uncomfortable mess of tangled limbs and sticky skin. The sun is already coming up, and I take a quick shower after making sure he's tucked in. I find him dressed when I step back into the living room, and silently hand him a cup of decaf.

"Bella..."

He starts, and I wait, but nothing else comes out. I decide to cut in and save him.

"I've known you for ten years, Edward. I know exactly what last night meant. And I know what you'll do next; it's who you are. I could never resent that."

"We shouldn't have," he whispers, and I nod.

"It was wrong, and unfair to ourselves and two other people, on so many levels."

He nods. It felt wrong for him, too.

"I waited for years."

His admission throws me off, and I hide my face behind my steaming mug of tea, if for a couple of seconds.

"Since when?" I have to ask.

"Senior year. The first time I realized we were going to have to part ways, eventually. It physically hurt," he paused, sitting down on the couch and checking his watch. I knew he had little time. "When was it, for you?"

"Are you kidding me, Edward?" I ask, crying copiously. "The first time I saw you from across the cafeteria, the day I set foot in Forks High. You've owned me ever since."

He sets down the cup of decaf, and comes up to me, kissing me on the forehead.

"How long will it take you to get ready?"


	2. Her Place

**A Thank You to **_**pippapear**_**, simply for being amazing. She made this happen, not me.**

**This is the first of the two endings that I've written. Enjoy ;)**

_"How long will it take you to get ready?"_

Five hours later, I'm standing by one of the long benches filling the space, muffled sounds of shifting people bouncing off the tall ceiling and echoing in my ears.

Edward looks so very, very different: fresh, crisp and sharp in a tuxedo, by my side. He's stealing all the attention from the bride, but that was to be expected.

The traditional vows slip his mouth, and hot tears flow down my face, dragging my makeup with them. The weight of the words doesn't escape me, and I know he means them with all his heart.

Mike pats me on the back, reminding me that will be us in a very short time, his hushed voice like a caress. I smile up to him, looking back just in time to see the minister give the couple his final blessing.

In a flowing white dress, Tanya looks like the epitome of beauty, fertility and virtue. The epitome of a bride. The sight of her alongside Edward is perfect.

The guests flow out of the church, and the newlyweds greet them outside, receiving the enthusiastic handshakes and one-armed hugs.

I stand back, but urge Mike to go on, stating I need a second to myself. He smiles in understanding - thinking I'm having a hard time saying goodbye to my best friend.

It's true.

Minutes later, a short man in casual attire comes up the aisle, certainly hoping to take a shot of the church's décor, as his camera dangles from his neck. He finds me sitting at the front bench, lost to the world.

"Are you with the Cullen wedding?" he asks, and I nod my assent.

I always knew my place in Edward's life, and today is no different.

Utterly confusing the photographer, I murmur:

"I'm the best woman."


	3. His Needs

**So this is the second ending, an alternative to the one I posted on Chapter two. ****This one will be continued**** on the following chapters.**

**Enjoy!**

**Oh, and **_**pippapear**_** is the only reason this ending ever happened.**

_"How long will it take you to get ready?"_

I mumble my answer, my nerves at breaking point. After last night, I honestly don't know how well I'll be able to hold up through the wedding, the reception, and, if I'm being honest, what will come after that.

I convince myself that taking things one at a time will get me through it, slowly breathing in and out. Just as, at work, I read one page at a time of a book I'm not enjoying. _How did my life become a book I don't want to read, a story I'm not enjoying?_

Hellbent on my plan, I find an appropriate dress I was saving for my rehearsal dinner and put on some simple jewelry and complex makeup. There's no time to get to a hairdresser - as Edward needs to get home to get dressed and follow all the little rituals that come with the big day - so I struggle to find enough bobby pins to secure my hair up, drowning it in hairspray. The result isn't so bad, so I consider myself presentable in just under twenty minutes.

I enter the living room and search my coat hanger for my new long coat. I remember suddenly that I need to call Mike and tell him to get ready quickly and meet me at the church. I'm already thinking of how I'll explain that my best friend finally reached out to me to make amends, right before his wedding, when I look down to my right hand to see my engagement ring missing.

I bite my lip, thinking of when and how it slipped from my finger.

As I enter the living room, I find Edward sitting very still, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. He's not looking at me, not moving at all; he's just staring at the fireplace in front of the couch, lost. I bend over to pick up the ring, easily found in the midst of the carpet fibers as it reflects the light filtering through the window.

"I'm ready," I whisper, slipping it on. He doesn't move or acknowledge what I said in any way, so I fidget in front of him. "Edward, did you hear what I said? You need to go."

He looks up at me then, the same blank expression drawn across his face. He's older, I realize, as I get to examine him more closely. The last six months turned the maturing boy into a man. Did I do that to him?

"Did Mike ever make love to you by this fireplace?"

His question hits me like a ton of bricks. He just keeps staring at me.

"Why are you asking me this? Edward..."

"Answer me, Bella, please."

I've never seen him this broken. I don't understand why it's important but, just as I always have when it comes to him, I cave. I tell him the truth.

"No. No, he didn't."

"Did he ever tell you how beautiful you look when your hair is wet from the rain? Or when you're cooking something you really love, or asleep..."

"Don't do this," I beg, fighting off the tears that would ruin my makeup and slow us down even more. "Don't put me up on a pedestal, because you're getting married today. My heart is broken as it is, and I'm trying to be okay with things, I really am, but you're not helping. Now get up, you need to go and get ready."

"No."

His voice rang, resolute, filling the room, filling the apartment . But I'm left even more confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"He never did any of those things, and he never will. I honestly hope that he doesn't. That he isn't the perfect fiancé, nor the perfect husband. Just like you wish Tanya isn't the fucking perfect woman for me."

I lose the battle with tears, and I lie:

"It's not true, I hope you two are happy..."

He stands, the massive presence of his slim body demanding space, and I take a step back, startled.

"Stop lying to me and to yourself. All these years, I'd go after someone to fill the space you left because you were always in a relationship. By the time you broke up with the poor guy, I was already hard at work acting as if I was doing anything but comparing her to you and mentally adding up all the things in which she fell short. And you did the exact same thing. Again and again."

"Let me guess," I cut in, desperately trying to get him to stop the torture. "Until you met Tanya?"

"Of course not. I settled for Tanya because I didn't believe I'd ever have you back, in any way, shape or form. But last night happened..."

My body was rigid in effort as I tried to think with my head and remain logical, in spite of everything he was saying.

"It doesn't change anything, Edward, listen to me! You're getting wedding jitters, like just every other guy. It probably doesn't help that we slept together last night, but you need to focus. You need to remember that somewhere in this town, a girl is getting in her expensive white dress. Dozens or hundreds of your friends and family members, caterers, and florists, and a pressed tuxedo - all waiting for you! You need to think of that..." I trail off, unable to keep going strong on my part as the voice of reason. I can't.

I'm trying to convince the man I love into marrying another woman. There's only so much of it I can take.

His eyes are blazing and his fists are clenched by his side.

"I don't _need _to do any of those things, Bella. What I _need_ to do is to light up that fireplace and make love to you by it. I _need_ to tell you how beautiful you are in the rain, and how much I love every single thing you've ever cooked for me. And none of it will be overshadowed by the fact that we're committed to other people, because we won't be," he says, shocking me, igniting hope I don't want to quash. "What I _need_ to do is to stop this cycle of madness and call off the wedding. Just tell me you'll break up with Mike, Bella. Just take the leap with me," he begs, closing the distance between us and holding my forearms, leaning his forehead against mine.

"You're insane! Today is supposed to be your wedding day..." I counter, in a small voice, trying to wrap my mind around what he's proposing.

"I know, my parents will probably be pissed, and I might have to move out of my apartment after breaking up with Tanya like this, maybe change the plates on my car, but I won't care. It's been ten years waiting, Bella, and last night felt wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way, I felt it on my skin. Let me take you out to dinner and pull out your chair for you to sit, and I'll be disgustingly chivalrous and buy you flowers. And you'll let me pick the music and I'll let you pick the movie, as always. And I'll take you up to this apartment and beg you to let me light that damned fireplace."

His hand ghosts up to my face and I press my cheek onto it as his thumb brushes away the tears. The hope hasn't ebbed, but blossomed. Suddenly it feels real - the chance he's giving us, the future he wants, that I want.

"You're serious, aren't you?" I ask, because I need the confirmation. At this point, I'm not quite sure if I'm actually living this or just imagining it.

"I am," he states, unwavering. Not a speck of doubt crosses his green eyes.

"I _need _that too," I reply, stressing the word that would make him understand.

He smiles - a beautiful wide grin - and the look in his eyes is all encompassing. I'm sure now that he's never looked at Tanya that way. Because that look is meant for me and me alone.

If I hadn't known I'd give anything for Edward before, I knew now.

He leans in to kiss me, my stomach churning all the while - which is ridiculous, taking last night into account - but stops himself halfway.

"We need to take care of things first," he states, and I smile in understanding, stepping back. Suddenly, he's a whirlwind of activity - getting his coat and his shoes, and sprinting through the living room. I laugh loudly, and hug myself as I see him shut the door behind him, still smiling.

I waste no time, even though all I want to do is shout from the rooftop onto the city bellow. My own skin feels foreign - tingling as I think of all the things to come, all the things I want to do with Edward, that I want to experience. All the things I want to show him. That I've been dying to show him for the past ten years.

The feeling of being in love with someone and _sharing _that leaves me high.

I redress, shedding the armor that was meant to stoically endure the blows of a marriage I couldn't feel happy for (whether Edward's or my own) and get ready to leave. The urge to find Mike is stronger than ever before, a thought that makes me cringe, but I can't feel guilty for pursuing happiness. I'm allowing him the same.

Stepping out of my house, I find that I'm finally changed. Ten years later, but I'm finally so much more than just the best woman.  
I'm the woman he loves.


	4. Her Wrinkles

**Thank you all so much for the incentive you've sent my way. For a one shot I wasn't even planning on posting, this has been incredibly well received.**

**Recently I've received exciting news - The Best Woman has been nominated for an **_**Indie Twific Award**_**! As you can imagine, I'm bursting with pride. Or, at least, I got to that when I stopped hyperventilating.**

**The link will be on my profile, for those who wish to vote. The support is appreciated!**

**Enjoy ;)**

I'm in front of Mike's apartment at half past 9, which feels ridiculous.

This is already one of the longest days of my life. I feel as if I haven't spoken to him in years.

I worry that he's probably asleep, but remember that, with it being Saturday morning, he should be up early. He's a creature of habits, and Saturday mornings are for working out, work for a couple of hours to ensure all his clients survive the weekend, then do the laundry.

Having been with him for six months, I know what I'm talking about. He never steps away from his plans - not even for a romantic getaway.

I realize that, had Edward gone forth with the wedding, I might have had to attend it on my own.

But, thinking back to all the jealousy the simple _mention _of my best friend of ten years entailed, my chances of being dateless through the ordeal were actually pretty slim. After all, motivation changes even the most hardened of habits.

I'd come to appreciate the stability of Mike's routines, his minimalistic way of living, but, had I been true to myself, I'd have to admit I was _bored_.

Even his proposal was... Bland. He just asked me what my thoughts were on marriage, and, once I said I would definitely want to get married someday, he proceeded to ask «if I wanted to go ahead with it».

And that was it.

I have to shake my head at myself when I think of all the things I would be settling for.

I let myself in, using the key he gave me, for, probably for the last time.

"Hello?"

My voice echoes through the nearly empty house, and I hear his muffled response:

"I'm in the shower! Just wait a second, I'll be right out!"

I yell my assent and go sit on his white couch, uncomfortable. I was hoping to get it over with quickly; the wait is nerve racking.

I wonder where Edward is at the moment, and cringe.

I imagine beautiful Tanya in a flowing white gown, torn and broken, crying.

Begging him not to go ahead with it. To spare her the humiliation of being the jilted bride.

Guilt settles in a the pit of my stomach, stronger than any discomfort I'd ever experienced. And I have to wonder - if this is how _I _feel, than what about Edward?

What will he do once he sees her? One he thinks about the repercussions it will have within his family, his circle of friends, on his own reputation?

Will he truly be able to face it?

Another powerful emotion sets at the pit of my stomach - despair. What if he backs out?

It's a very real hypothesis.

I'm here at my boyfriend's house, a man that, dull as he may be, always did right by me. I know he cares for me, deeply. I'm turning my back on something good in my life for... what?

A possibility for something I've dreamed of and idealized since I was a teenager? A night that shouldn't have happened and a jumbled, emotional conversation in the morning?

Undiluted guilt nags at me and tears my flesh wide open, for sleeping with an engaged man, for destroying a wedding ceremony and a future he would have, had I kept my wits, my dignity and my logic last night.

I never even took the time to get to know Tanya. She might be the sweetest human being alive, and I can only imagine how much she loves Edward.

If she feels the same way I do... If I were meant to marry Edward and then have to face my family, my friends... If I were to have to box up the wedding dress, give back the gifts, call off the honeymoon... If I were to hear him say to my face that he didn't love me, I might just never recover.

I take deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm myself. Stepping into the shoes of the woman we've wronged - that I've wronged - makes me think of how utterly selfish I've been.

After all, Edward and I never even dated. Things can go awry, we might not even be compatible. The angry, desperate sex was amazing, sure, but, once the dust settles, are we really going to work as a couple?

This, is of course, assuming he doesn't go through with the wedding...

My mind is going in circles as I hear the glass door of the shower sliding in the distance, and realize the water has stopped running for a few seconds. My hands relax on my lap, and I sit straighter, sighing.

No matter what happens, whether Edward goes through with the wedding or not - _and please let him not go through with it - _I know that I'm not meant to spend the rest of my life with Mike. If so, last night would have never happened.

This gives me strength. This gives me the certainty I need to change my life, even if I don't get my fairy tale ending.

"Hey! Your hair looks great, are you going somewhere?" Mike greets me, smile set on his face, already dressed in a polo and jeans. Casual enough for the weekend, but formal enough for him to feel he's not working in his pajamas, he once told me.

"Thanks. No, I just..." I fumble with my words, and quickly decide not to mention Edward. Ending a relationship is one thing - but to summarily dismiss someone for another brings forth a whole different kind of resentment, especially since it's Edward.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your work."

"I'll start in a bit. It's okay."

He's nervous, I can tell. Maybe he can sense something is awry.

"Are you happy?"

The question leaves me without thought, but, then again, it is a way of getting the ball rolling. Mike sits down, uncomfortable and still nervous.

"Sure I am," he answers, too quickly. "I mean... Of course there's a lot I still have to achieve, and I think things will be better once we get married, but... Yeah, I'm happy."

"What do you think will be better after the wedding?"

"We'll have time to... you know. Be around each other more. Smooth the wrinkles."

So even he felt there were wrinkles.

"I don't know, Mike. I don't think it will."

His eyes go wide.

"So, you're not happy?"

"It's not that I'm unhappy, it's just that... I'm not ecstatic, and maybe I should be. I think we're both... Settling. We just think it's the adult thing to do, so here we are. There was never anything truly wrong with us as a couple, but there wasn't something exceptionally right, either."

"I don't know what you mean," Mike states, his forehead wrinkling.

My stomach clenches with fear, because this is happening. I'm actually breaking up with the guy that proposed to me, and looking into Mike's eyes I see him - a very cute, very loyal and committed man - staring back at me, confused.

I go on before I can tell him to forget all about it and shrivel back to the life I had 24 hours ago.

"I remember sitting here with my laptop, reviewing a book while you watched TV," I start, something that's been stuck on my throat for quite some time, "and I asked you a question, out loud. And you didn't answer. You made no move to answer me, or acknowledge I'd even made a sound. For every intent and purpose, you probably never even heard it, which isn't your fault, of course, I'm not saying you ignored me on purpose. But, the thing that struck me later was... I just went right back to work," I explained, letting my eyes drift to the neat stack of magazines on top of the coffee table. "I didn't call out to you again, I didn't... try. I just went back to work as if I was expecting it."

I look up to see Mike deep in thought, also staring at the coffee table.

"We do a lot of that. Watch TV, work around each other," I remark.

A pregnant pause inserts itself between us, and Mike fidgets, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I guess... I know what you're saying," he finally says, and I feel a big weight coming off my shoulders. "There wasn't any real reason to break up, but it never... worked."

"Exactly," I agree.

Mike sighs, looking around, uncomfortable to the extreme.

"So... I think it's fair to say the wedding is off, then?"

"I'm sorry, Mike. I'm really happy to have found you again, and I don't regret saying yes to that first date, or any of what came after that. The girl you do marry will be lucky to have you," I tell him, truthfully.

He is a great guy. We're just not right for each other.

He's smiling again.

"Right back at you, Bella. We're still friends, right?"

"Right," I smile back. "I'll see you around the office, and we can go out for coffee anytime. There's no reason why we shouldn't stay friends."

Somehow, my words seem to calm him, and he lightens up considerably.

He offers me the chance to get the clothes I left behind while he handles work and calling off the arrangements already in place for the ceremony.

Good thing we were waiting another week before sending out the invitations.

By noon, I'm home, carrying a bag filled with clothes and a toothbrush, starving. I cook while trying not to think about where Edward is, and what he ultimately decided to do.

With nothing to do, I end up sitting on my big couch with a tray of food and put some brainless TV on to distract me.

Ten minutes later, I've lost my appetite.

I'm just staring at the fireplace, willing my phone to ring, willing the seconds to tick until it does.


	5. His Burning Fire

**A big thank you to all of you that voted for The Best Woman!**

**This chapter is an EPOV, as its successors will be. I've really enjoyed sitting in a corner of his brain, so, expect more of his voice! Enjoy ;)  
**  
My legs try to keep up with my racing mind as I leave Bella's apartment, determined to put a stop to my wedding.

Not that there's much possibility for damage control - but it would still be nice to catch Tanya before she heads to the church. Ideally, before she even puts on that dress.

The last six months of my life have been incredibly long.

I missed Bella. I was so used to having her there, my sounding board, the one I cracked a cold beer with at the end of the day, the only one I told my stories and whose stories I really wanted to hear...

Somehow, I took that for granted.

I'd made my peace with the fact that she'd never want anything else to do with me, but that, her friendship, I thought I'd always have.

Then Tanya asked me out, I said yes, and it all went South.

Bella stopped answering my calls, and that part of myself, of my life, went silent with her.

I called her last night because... I needed an answer. I couldn't keep away anymore, I had to check and see for myself if she hadn't changed her mind. In a way, I lived for that chance.

I meant what I told her, standing by the freezing waters. She was the only one on my mind as I thought about getting married.

Not for the right reasons.

I didn't want to celebrate my upcoming union with Tanya with her, I wanted her to tell me to shut the whole thing down.

I would have.

But, of course, Bella is in a relationship. Bella is _always _in a relationship, ever since that Jacob kid put his paws on her before I could man up and dump Lauren.

Not only in a relationship, but engaged. To _fucking _Mike Newton. If she even knew half the stuff he used to say about her in the guy's locker room, she'd be getting a restraining order.

That punch was well deserved, trust me.

So I had to stand there and feel myself going both cold in fear and boil in anger as she talked about how _perfect _Tanya is for me.

As if.

My - still, but not for long - fiancée has her flaws, nothing a man in love couldn't look past, but I certainly wasn't able to. I couldn't get over the fact that I was sipping beer with my best woman, practically begging her to give me a good reason not to go ahead with it.

All she said was she wasn't taking me to a strip club.

Maybe the masochist in me wanted to come out and play, or maybe the man in me recognized that, after saying those vows, there would be no turning back.

I may cuss more often than Bella would approve, and I might drink on occasion, but I had never, up until last night, been unfaithful.

I'd known that was it. I would have to endure seeing my Bella at my wedding and not have her as my bride, and attend hers without cracking that prick's lights out, but I'd have to stay away after that.

With that in mind, I suggested a typical Edward and Bella night. I was actually sad she didn't own that ratty little couch anymore, so I wouldn't feel her pressed up against me while we stared at the TV. I wouldn't feel her body shake in laughter anymore, or clearly make out her quiet sigh when the sappy, romantic part comes on.

Her place was different, looked cleaner, more organized. Again, it stung that she moved on so well, that I was just a character belonging to a chapter she'd already closed.

I cowardly admitted how much I missed her; if I was brave, I would have expressed how much I love her.

And just as she says she missed me too, she starts crying. I couldn't deal with her tears - they tore at my flesh like acid. I just wanted to make it stop, to comfort her, so I made the mistake of stepping closer to hold her.

It was _my _Bella I was holding, and it was unlike anything else in the world. Her soft skin, her warm body, her feminine scent engulfed me. It was so good it was painful, and it didn't even come as surprise anymore. I'm used to having to repress the urge to screw things up, but last night of all nights, I was having a hard time keeping up the facade.

I asked her why she shut me out so I had a good reason to stay out.

But she reeled me in.

Sobbing and broken, my Bella threw my thoughts and feelings back at me.

I held her as bile rose to my throat, the shock of finding out something I already knew, was certain of, but never allowed myself more than dreams of, rendering me useless to think.

I did anything but.

She regretted her mistakes just as much as I did mine.

My sweet, delicate Bella. So strong. All these years we'd been stuck, too afraid of upsetting the most meaningful relationship in our lives and reveal its true meaning.

And we're still stuck. I wish last night was different, but it wasn't.

She choked on the words, and I stopped her from uttering them, knowing how utterly wrong it would be to do that then, of all times.

_But tomorrow is too late._

_  
_I couldn't promise her I'd always be by her, and I couldn't say something that would ultimately make it harder for us both to lie at different altars, taking turns, thinking of the same.  
But I could show her. I _had _to show her.

I felt her breathing change as I had kept pushing her, just as I've always done, testing her. And she stumbled back, offering no resistance, clearly affected by this all.

_This will hurt. I know it will, but I can't stop myself. Not after admitting to what we did, at the same time admitting to nothing at all._

_  
_She stared up at me from the couch, her beautiful eyes wide as she took me in, and I stripped my sweater, too far gone. I didn't care what would happen after last night; I just knew I'd deal with it later.

I'd have the rest of my life to deal with it.

_Let me at least have something to remember, something to be tortured about, dammit!_

_  
_I opened my mouth, had tried to grasp the words that would make her see just how much she meant to me, but she stopped me, just like I did her.

We were equals in that; we always were. Other women forgave too easily or not at all. Other women were afraid of my intellect or the shape of my body, and to some they were both insufficient.

Not with Bella. We were always enough for each other, never too much. She matched me step by step, whether we were doing the crossword puzzle or jogging around my block on Sunday morning.

She pulled on my hips, and I had given up my control over myself to exert it over her.

And how it had _hurt._

_  
_She closed her eyes so tightly, as if she couldn't even look at my face as I made love to her. And I did.

I adored her body, tried to resist the urge to stake a claim over what wasn't mine. I adored every little piece of her, the ones I knew and the ones I'd always wanted to know, as I had slowly stripped her. I inched her up on that couch, finally making my peace with the loss of the ratty old one.

Her shiny ring fell. I saw it, but didn't say anything, shedding the rest of my clothes as I kissed up her body, slowly, wanting to commit the details to memory.

My mind is in a haze as I enter my car, vaguely aware that I need to drive myself to Tanya's house. All I can see are those images from the night before.

I was completely in awe of Bella, and had lost myself in giving her pleasure, in seeing what I was able to do to her.

Completely unthinking, without her even having her eyes open to see, to prepare herself for what was coming - I kissed her. The most significant touch that we could ever share.

Her eyes remained closed, and I instantly regretted it.

Because that was our first kiss.

And even naked and lost in each other, desperate to feel, we couldn't be alone.

The crude reality overshadowed what I knew, in my heart, should have been the most passionate and sacred moment.

And it wasn't. We couldn't give that to each other, and I knew that even as I had watched her with baited breath, writhing beneath me, _beautiful_.

But then she'd opened her eyes.

The Bella I've always known hid at a corner of the mind of the woman in front of me and she made _me _experience true pleasure.

With mesmerizing agility, she took control over me, finally reminding me of my own need for her.

Even as I drive, I have to shake my head to focus on the traffic. I need to focus, or I'll get in a damn accident on my way to dissolve the biggest mistake I've ever set myself up to commit and I'll lose the chance I'd sacrifice everything - that I _am _sacrificing everything - over.

But the physical intensity of having her move with me, completely wrapped around each other, would always live on in my memory. Fueled by desperation or not... That was something I knew I'd only have with her.

Even with Bella's warm, sleeping body in my arms, I couldn't surrender to rest. My mind worked through the night, to no avail. In spite of what I'd done - so wrong in so many ways, not only towards the woman I was holding, but to the woman I had asked in marriage - I still considered myself a man of honor. I had to make it right, but I didn't know how.

There was no way I could do it without destroying something that matters to me.

I must have been asleep for under an hour when I felt Bella pull away and heard her footsteps through her house.

Without her nestled against me, her soft breathing lending me an anchor of peaceful interlude in between pieces of reality, I'd felt empty. Just as crumpled as the clothes strewn around the floor.

I put them on, an odd acceptance of sorts, and she showed up, fresh from the shower, with a cup of her favorite tea and some disgusting concoction that didn't taste anything like the real, wonderful caffeinated version, while holding back on said caffeine.

She's always trying to make a healthier man out of me. And today wasn't the day to fight her, even if there were no nerves for the uppers to amplify. Just... defeat.

I needed to say something. I'd known a declaration wouldn't do, not on the day I'm marrying Tanya. But I had slept with her, and suddenly all I could think about was what this was doing to Bella.

How unfair it had been for me to take advantage of her feelings. I should have been stronger and pushed her away.

It's the last item on my list of mistakes, and the only one I'd never want to cross off.

She saved me from having to apologize, cutting my insides to shreds. She already knew the choice I'd make, she expected it from me. And she closed her eyes and let me strip her naked all the same.

We'd both agreed it was wrong - though the fact the word _regret _was never mentioned didn't escape me.

She mentioned the other two people involved, just like I knew she would. I was to blame for her guilty conscience.

I'd needed to give her something. I couldn't let her feel as though she'd been used - some sort of last release before finally committing to a lifetime with Tanya. She'd never be that.

And, even though I'd loved her all this time, she knew it first. She'd hurt longer.

I couldn't kiss her lips, so I settled for a sad, loose hold on her waist, a kiss on her forehead.

She went to get ready, still crying.

_I'm such an asshole._

_  
_I'd sat on that couch, focusing on the tight schedule I had to keep. Last night felt as though it'd never happened - just a dream before the blaring alarm clock went off. As if the drearier future was somehow more real.

And I would have gone forth with it, too.

I would have done what my mother and father expected of me, to some extent. I'd be a nice addition to the softball team roster of married staff members at the company.

I'd go through the motions, and, to some extent, it was as I thought it would be. Only made harder.

The thing that shifted things for me was the fireplace.

I couldn't help but imagine Bella sprawled in front of the fire, _alight, happy, _and wondered if Newton would ever give her that.

I might be settling for mediocrity, but so would she. And that, I couldn't really accept.

I smirk like an idiot while waiting for the traffic light to go green.

It took hearing her say all the things I had to do - she actually used the word _need - _to realize just what needed to be done.

And the true burn of happiness came with her features - that had changed from hanging-by-a-thread-about-to-cry and crying to hopeful, loving.

_She loves me._

That's why I have to stop my big day and make it _our _big day.

But, before that, I have big trouble to handle.


	6. His Admission

**A/N: A warm thank you for all the love the reviewers sent my way!**

**A special shout out to **_**profmom72**_** for the rec posted on ****The Lazy Yet Discerning Ficster****, which made me smile and feel life an over-inflated balloon once I was done hyperventilating.**

**My little aspiring to inspired heart goes out to **_**pippapear**_** for her awesome beta ninja skills and, most of all, her priceless friendship.**

_~*~_

_  
She loves me._

That's the truth that cloaks me and boosts my spirits. There was no other way I could face the big three headed dog that is Tanya.

That's something I realized early enough in the relationship. She isn't really your usual girl. When you're dating her, you're actually dating two other women. Namely, Kate and Irina, her sisters.

You have to have their stamp of approval at all times, invite them over to your house and cook for them, and secretly grit your teeth after noticing one of them rummaged through the medicine cabinet. You have to buy presents in clusters of three, so you can keep them all satisfied.

I put my foot down at driving them to and from ladies' night at the local club on a hockey night. Tanya threatened to withhold sex.

Let's just say I like hockey a lot more than I enjoy being played with.

The short elevator ride up to the sixth floor did me no good in getting my head straight or come up with a speech. I never did possess the ability of preparing my thoughts - everything that left my mouth was exactly as I thought it, as I was thinking it. Bella was the one I always got to lose all filters with - all but one - until now.

With Tanya, I had to keep a lot of them in place. Mainly, I needed to refrain my judgmental nature, and let myself appreciate her virtues and forgive her flaws. I know she did the same.

As I knock on the door to her apartment, hearing some sort of pop tune over voices within, I have no idea what I'm going to say to her. But this conversation is as vital as it will be painful.

But, of course, my fianceé doesn't open the door. It's Kate, and I have to breathe a sigh as I try looking past her into her home. A woman wearing a white dress with a _tail _isn't exactly easy to miss.

"Edward...? What happened, why have you shown up here... looking like that?" she starts, shaken but non-judgmental.

"Good morning, Kate. I really need to talk to Tanya, right now," I plead, as I can't see her, but I think I can hear her voice. "Before someone from the bridal party arrives and sees me," I add, before she can close the door on me.

"Right now," she whispers, as if I've gone mad. In some ways, I know I have. But I need to go through this.

It's what I'm chanting to myself as I make it into the living room area.

Irina is installed on the _chaise longue_, wearing the same ugly bridesmaid's dress as Kate, and there's an older woman sitting beside Tanya. They're on the couch, and, before Irina can notice my presence and spew some venom at me, I let myself take in the image.

I can identify Carmen even with her back to me, recognizing her dark hair and skin tone. She's the mother the sisters never had, with both the sweetness and seriousness she always needed to keep them in check.

With skillful fingers, she's braiding Tanya's blonde hair and pinning it up in an intricate nest. The soft locks against her back, which is already framed in white, make me remember all the good things about us that made me propose in the first place.

It's true that I only proposed because the woman I truly loved had shut me out. But it's also true that, out of all the women I'd ever been with, Tanya was the only one who made me wish I could give her more.

She is independent and self-assured, though not completely immune to a compliment or a gesture. She was also truly interested in getting to know me and adjust to the things I wanted instead of keeping me in a tidy little corner of her life. It took time to make these changes, for her to start seeing me with different eyes, but she had.

Tanya wanted to take care of me, because she did care for me. And after so many meaningless relationships, it was a breath of fresh air.

I'd hoped I could build a life with her, the kind of love that came with years of joined living and experiences. I'd hoped we could be happy.

I'd hoped against reason and against myself.

That doesn't change the fact that I'm destroying a beautiful, intelligent woman's dreams. She'll carry the burden of dealing with the consequences of this decision as much as me, as unilateral as it is.

It's unfair.

But wouldn't it be so much worse to do this a few years from now, as giving up became the only choice? Maybe there would be children involved, by then. More victims of my stupidity. And Bella wouldn't wait that long for me. She shouldn't have waited ten years already.

I asked her to break up with the prick and call off her own engagement. How can I get married today?

How can I honestly face this woman and promise her lies if the smell of Bella's skin is still all over me? If last night is all I can think of?

"What's he doing here?" Irina frowns, looking between me and Kate, and I'm finally broken out of my reverie. I just bow my head a little and try to act as if I don't hate her. Much.

Both Tanya and Carmen turn to face me and, even as the not-bride-to-be-for-much-longer's eyes light up, Carmen's harden. Maybe she can sense something is amiss.

"I need to speak with Tanya in private, if that's alright," I ask, politely.

Irina opens her mouth, but is quickly cut off by Carmen.

"We need to leave these two alone."

"He shouldn't even be seeing her, the dress..."

_As if bad luck would make any difference now._

"Don't be thick, Irina, let's go to your room. I'll work on your makeup." Carmen's voice has some finality in it, and the bridesmaids follow her out.

Before closing the door to the corridor behind her, the older woman's eyes sweep the room one last time, and she looks sad. Am I that transparent, or did she see it coming?

Tanya finally turns to me.

"Edward? Baby, what's wrong? Oh, look at you... still in yesterday's clothes?"

Her voice is nothing but sweetness, with an edge that's just hers. I swallow and try not to look down at her dress, though, the few glimpses I do end up getting tell me she looks lovely.

I don't sit, as I don't feel I have the right to. I pull on my hair, trying to find the words, struggling for them.

"You're awfully quiet," she remarks after a minute of this, her smile faltering. I realize that she's expecting me to touch or compliment her, and that my silence is unnerving.

_Alright. Just like you always have, just say what's on your mind. All of it. Rip the damn band aid off once and for all, it's not like saying "I'm sorry" the appropriate amount of times will make it any better.  
_  
"I know I shouldn't have waited until today, of all days, to have this conversation with you, but I have to. There's no way around it. And, believe me, if I could have done things differently, I would, but... It's too late for that. I have to act on what's possible, not on what's passed."

"Baby..." Tanya starts, in a patronizing tone, but I interrupt her.

"I can't go through with the wedding. I'm sorry."

She stares at me for a second. Then she looks me up and down, as if she's trying to figure me out, and shakes her head again.

"I have no idea what happened to you, but, whatever it is, you have to snap out of it..." she states, freakishly calm, not really looking me in the eye. "Because there's people arriving any minute now to follow me down to the church, and everything is ready but you, apparently, so... If this is your idea of a joke, Edward..."

"You know me better than that, Tanya, listen to me..."

"NO! _You _listen to me," she spits out, menacingly, as she gets up. "We have _hundreds _of guests gathering for us today. _You _were the one who proposed to me. You told me you _loved _me. So, whether you're getting cold feet or one of your idiot friends slipped something in your drink last night... I don't care," she huffs, turning her back on me and examining her reflection to make sure she was still flawless in her rage. "You _are _doing this."

My mouth is agape as I realize that Tanya is somehow under the assumption that I've cut off my two nuts and handed them over for her to squeeze.

This is the side of her that I've always had a problem with.

The proposal, for example. I got my grandmother's ring out of the family safe deposit box, and went through a lot of trouble so she'd find it in an unexpected way.

But, just as she opened the ever-common velvet box I'd slipped inside her Caesar salad, her smile faded. Although she assured me she wanted to marry me as fast as possible, she promptly declared she couldn't possibly wear «that old thing».

So, there was _her _version of the proposal. The one where I dropped on one knee in front of every customer at the jewelry store, right after having bought the ring she picked.

I'd felt emasculated then, but having her _order _me to go ahead with the wedding just about made me want to cup my nether regions for safety.

I have to force myself to breathe deeply several times before trying to talk to her again.

"I understand this must be difficult to process. But we're not getting married, Tanya. That would be a huge mistake."

"Oh, is that so? So, you just happened to wait until our wedding day to figure _that one _out? What did you do last night? Fall in love with some stripper?"

I know, at this point, that I need to keep my wits about me, but I can see her sneering at me, and it's becoming clear that being gentle about this won't help.

So I do the one thing that can possibly turn me into more of an asshole, in her eyes.

I tell her the undiluted truth.

"I slept with another woman."

~*~


	7. His Catastrophe

**I'd like to thank everyone for the awesome support sent my way! **

**Pippapear is still, and will be for as long as she'll allow my harassment, the friend that helps me with editing and throwing ideas around. Because, honestly, calling her a Beta is just plain insulting at this point.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

The shock of it hits her just as I've expected, and she turns to me, wide eyes blank, if for a second. I almost don't catch the fast movement as she pulls her arm back, only to thrust her hand forward and deliver a strong, loud, resounding slap across my face.

_Ouch. _I don't say anything, as I know that, deep down, I deserve it, but still. _Ouch._

Tanya starts yelling out semi-coherent expletives, most of them I know I should feel hurt about, but I just try to avoid hearing her as much as possible. It's her prerogative to vent, after all.

It takes a good five minutes for her to stop, and I'm surprised no one has come in to check on what's happening. The cheesy tune I heard when I came in was silenced, so I know everyone in the house can hear us.

Unfortunately, all of this will be all too public, no matter what I do to prevent it. I finally sit down, feeling weak in the knees, small and crushed in shame.

"Why did you do it? Why ruin... everything..." she finally asks me, her voice low and hoarse. In spite of the fit she just justifiably threw, her face still looks impeccable - a real Hitchcock blonde, this amiable woman turned demonic, and the worst is I can't blame her. It adds some strength to the image of her sorrow, but I can't give into it. I can't hush her and promise it will all be okay.  
Right now, I'm not sure of it myself.

"I'm sorry."

It's all I can say, all I can offer her. Maybe she knows this, as she nods.

"I never expected this from you. Sometimes, I wondered... If we would be okay, but I never saw this coming," she sighed, pausing. "Maybe I can deal with it. I'll have to. We'll just... go through today and go from there. At least the honeymoon will give us a chance to work this out on our own."

_You're really willing to put this behind us just so you can hang on to your idea of what could be?_

For a second, I look at the broken woman, still standing before me, and I find myself admiring her a little bit more. This was supposed to be her big day, and, even though I've just tarnished the perfect picture she surely had in mind, she still wants to go through with it.

A part of me is surprised, and I berate myself for being an ass before. I shouldn't have been so callous in my delivery. Worst of all, she'd misinterpreted.

"I... I wish I could find it in me to go through this, but I can't. The woman I slept with..."

"Please, don't tell me anything, I don't want to know," Tanya almost yells, drowning me out.

"But I need to say it," I cut in, trying to reign in the conversation. "She's important to me. We... lost touch for a few months, but I met her again last night, and there was really no escaping it."

At this point, I'm just thinking out loud. There's been no chance of escape from day one. And as God is my witness, I've tried staying away, especially in High School, even before I could understand what was going on.

There's some strange quiet to be found in just surrendering to something. Just giving up. I know now that there's a very real chance that Bella loves me as much as I do her, and that's all I need to stop fighting the current.

It's that same current that forces me to speak. To be the man I need to be.

"I'm sorry about how much I've hurt you, but I don't regret it. You deserve better than this. I don't have it in me," I repeat, the sounds bouncing around in my head. There's too much on my mind, too much to think about to stay coherent.

Tanya is falling apart in front of my eyes. There's a light sheen on her forehead, and her eyes are a sickening red, darting from object to object, never landing on me or in the hands, twisting convulsively on her lap. It makes me physically ill to see her.

"We'll have it annulled," she squeaks, all of a sudden, getting up again and pacing, stepping over the tail of the dress and crumpling it.

"What?"

_Now I'm just confused._

"We can't back down now... Just imagine what it would be like, what we would have to face... So we do the ceremony, cut the cake, and get it annulled tomorrow, if you still want to."

My forehead creasing, I inspect her for a moment, and I can almost hear the gears shifting inside her head.

What is this, exactly? Just some desperate way of tricking me?

Or is it something else entirely?

It irks me, the lack of intensity in her response. After the threats, I'd expected anger, and she had delivered, yes. Right now, we'd skipped to negotiation, and something about it was off.

"This won't be easy to handle," I try, my voice truly steady for the first time. I'm good at this - at taking control of things. "I promise I'll do my best at protecting you from everything. I'll take care of it myself... I'll swing by the church and the venue, I'll talk to everyone. They'll all know it was me that broke things off."

She scoffs.

"As if it would make a difference..." Tanya trails off, staring at her own reflection in the mirror for the second time. "Your family... Even mine, they'll just say you dodged a bullet. Right on time."

Her shoulders are hunched over, chin down and her face, set in stone, without a trace of emotion.

And now I truly understand.

Going into the marriage, I had different motivations than Tanya. Granted, mine weren't the best in the world, but neither were hers.

Her reputation preceded her when we met; she was a seducer. In Dante's Inferno, a whole ring was designed to punish these sinners, but the three sisters had disregarded what their expensive Christian education had taught them to hold sacred.

I'm no-one to judge.

I've been with my fair share of women, probably more than I'd care to admit. And when I met her, I could tell she'd been through the same as me.

She was tired of going through the same dance with different partners. She wanted to step off of the floor altogether. I happened to be her ticket out - certainly a cynical point of view, but also a realistic one.

Kate married Garret two years ago and even Irina has been in a relationship for a while now. And maybe seeing this had finally led her to perceive herself as that last peach on the shelf, the one everyone has touched but no one is willing to take home.

_All women have self-esteem issues, they just manifest themselves in different ways. _Esme's words were entirely appropriate, and I finally approach Tanya, standing beside her, looking at myself in the mirror as well.

We don't fit in the same picture. My clothes and hair, both in complete disarray, clash with the clean cut dress, impeccable in its pearly white glow, her artful hairdo and shiny jewelry.

"When we started dating, I saw a beautiful woman that wasn't used to people wanting to get to know her for who she is. I saw an intelligent woman who was ashamed of admitting she'd installed her bathroom sink herself," I start, and she stiffens, looking at me. "And your past... I know you carry it with you, but you don't have to. I overlooked it, because it didn't mean anything. It was just the where and when that had brought you to me. Just know that I did love you with all I had available. It wasn't enough, and I'm sorry for us both, because you were selling yourself short. There will be a guy... Just as capable of overlooking what doesn't matter. But he'll be able to give you... everything."

Her shoulders straighten, finally, and she holds her head high as she nods at me through the mirror. It's a brief moment of understanding - feeble and insufficient, but about as much as we'll ever achieve.

"I hope you're right. Please... if you could... handle the guests..."

And I'm hopeful for her as well. The guilt that's taken residence on my back won't let up until she's pieced herself back together, and I know she won't do it alone.

"I will, " I assure her.

I leave the room, leaving her to bare her soul in front of the mirror, and close the door behind me to find myself in the narrow corridor outside their place.

Kate is there, leaning against the wall opposite the elevators.

"My sister's in no state to talk to people, I'll handle whomever comes."

Which would leave me with only my family and friends to handle, aside from all the practical issues regarding the church, the reception... Oh, and the honeymoon.

Great.

I stand beside her and click on the call button, though I know there's no way I'm leaving the building just like that. She proves me right.

"I was afraid of this."

I took the bait.

"How so?"

"Back when we dated... Well, it never would have worked out, we were both eager freshmen looking for very different things, but, even so. The way you talked about Bella, as if she was this unique, larger than life creature..."

"How do you know it was Bella?" I ask, panicking, but all she offers me is a bitter smile.

"I had hopes for you and Tanya, because she was no longer in the picture. Or so I thought. Maybe you're right though, maybe it is for the best that it happened now..."

I wince.

"You heard every single word, didn't you?"

"Carmen has to hate you right now, and, well, Irina will never forgive you for being the only sister you've never kissed, but... We'll live. Tanya will live. I'll clean up your mess."

"She has so many insecurities," I state, questioning her.

"Yes," she nods, vigorously, "and today was the day she thought she'd finally feel validated. I think that, after all those years of playing with men's hearts, she believed hers to be invulnerable."

The elevator doors slides open in front of me and I step in, looking at my own feet, a shell of the man I thought I was.

"Edward?"

Kate's eyes show understanding and compassion I wasn't expecting.

"When I said your mess, I meant yours and Tanya's. Don't beat yourself over this, not too much. Your timing absolutely sucked, but, if it hadn't been this..."

"It'd been something else," I nod, and the doors close.

A piece of the nightmare is locked away, though I'm sure it will come back to bite me in the ass soon enough. Right now, I need to stay focused on the task at hand.

_How did my girl put it? Reading one page at a time?  
_  
I let myself feel worn by the nearly sleepless night and just about everything else as it crashes over me and through me, almost to the point of no perception. The trip to my place is a beaten path, automatic as I go through it with the low hum of the engine as my background.

I put no music on, afraid I'll spoil a good song by turning it into the soundtrack to the tragedy.

The shower water feels like heaven on my skin, and I wish only for it to clean deeper. But I'm not allowed to delay any confrontations as I hear a loud knock on my door and move to open it, wearing only a towel.

"Emmett?"

"Where the hell have you been?!" the bigger man demands to know, knocking me out of the way as he enters, barely contained in the suit. I eye him up and down, avoiding the answer. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I put on some weight, you skinny bitch. Now, get your ass in your penguin suit _pronto, _we need to get to the church so I can hit on some bridesmaids."

"You can forget about those bridesmaids, I'm not getting married," I state, dryly, but remember all the trouble my sparse use of words has gotten me into already. "Not today, not ever - to Tanya, anyway."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asks, after patiently waiting as I put on some clean clothes.

I could use Kate's words and write it off as a mutual agreement, or, at least, a mutual mistake. But I'd promised Tanya.

"I slept with someone else last night."

"So, let me get this straight," Emmett starts, angrily, "you chickened out at the last minute, freaking out over the possibility of finally putting that wedding band on Tanya's finger, and slept with some whore so you'd have an excuse?"

I don't know what I'm doing, but, all of a sudden, I just go blind.

It dawns on me that this is what everyone else will think - but won't have the courage to say out loud. It burns my gut to know that this is what everyone will say behind Bella's back, when all of it was my fault.

I'm brought back to reality by a loud snap, the sound of my own bones breaking. Figures I'd be the one injured after punching Emmett in the face.

He looks more surprised than anything else, so I just stumble back, my pride too bruised to hold on to my throbbing fist as I shout my only excuse:

"It was Bella!"

The guy I'd asked to be my best man actually looks ashamed.

"I didn't know. So, what now? Packing? Thinking of heading up to Alaska for a few months, hide out until everything is quiet?" he jokes, but he's already grabbing the car keys.

"I'll face the music. For her," I add as an afterthought.

"Which one of them?"

"Both. Does your chin hurt?"

"Nah. Good thing you're a skinny bitch, after all."


	8. Her Phoenix

**Author's note: Thank you for your patience, everyone! I know it's been a while since the last update, and I promise to be a nicer writer in the future.**

**As always, Auntie Pipappear helps me keep the chapps clean and in check. They're hers, too.  
**

_Edward_

It's a dark and cold night before I can cross the last threshold of the day - one that I don't fear, and yet I can still feel the darkness of everything else hovering over me like demon's wings.

I waited to call Bella.

I waited for hours, busying myself with breaking hopes, futures and plans, shredding them to crumbs with my fingers, using far more determination than I would claim to possess a few days ago. The fragility of those plans, something that should have made it easier, only made me feel more vulnerable.

I waited to call her because I wanted my voice to be steady and free of everything else that wasn't regret, but that she might interpret as such.

I wanted to be happy just because I could have her, just because this was necessary for us both, just because if there was one selfish fucking act in my entire lifespan, I wanted this to be it.

But I couldn't.

My voice was still filled with misery and my head with images of tears and shock as I asked her if I could spend the night at her place.

She acquiesced, tentative and maybe even hurt. I'd taken longer than I should, and it didn't change a thing.

For the second time in twenty four hours, I find myself in front of Bella's door, and realize things haven't changed _that _much.

I'm still a selfish man, craving the woman that lives here, unsure of where tonight will take us.

She opens the door, heat and spice engulfing me immediately, and eyes me briefly with nothing but concern that doesn't lift - or rather intensifies - after the scrutiny.

"How was it?" I ask her right after stepping inside the poorly lit foyer and greeting her, because I couldn't make myself ask her on the phone and I can't wait another second.

_And it's there._

My stomach, my face, and my entire world drops as I see it, that expensive chunk of offending metal still wrapped around her finger.

She's _still_ wearing her engagement ring.

Following my eyes with that quiet attention that has always graced her, she lifts her hand and slips it off, putting it away.

She waited for the right moment, too.

"It was... easier than I'd predicted. Mike took things well, though I suspect he was putting on a show. Maybe a part of him expected it," I hear her say, the knot on my chest untying itself as I stare at her delicate, unblemished, free finger. "The wedding is off. He handled everything."

It takes me two seconds to process this information, swelling chest and maybe a little less hurt, a little more on my way to recovery. Because she's not engaged to Newton, I didn't marry Tanya, and even if that's not the perfect start, it's definitely _a _start.

"We are talking about Newton here," I insist, distrusting this easy way out he gave her, as I set down my overnight bag that might turn into my overweek bag, if she'll let me. "He'll probably see it as a challenge and nag you for years."

My words have some truth to them, but it's also true that I'm almost hoping he _does _nag her just so I have a reason to unhinge his jaw for good.

"I'm off the market. How was it... with Tanya?" Bella asks me, her beautiful eyes inquisitive and her hands twitching beside her, since she doesn't know if she can touch me yet.

Which would make no sense, in any other situation.

Closing my eyes and berating myself for being an idiot and not telling her sooner, on my knees, as I should, I give her the edited, shortened, sweetened and sprinkled version of events:

"We... talked it out. At first, she thought I was on drugs, then she accused my friends of turning me against her... In the end, she finally realized we weren't getting married. Not even for the sake of our families, not even so we could get it annulled the next day."

"She suggested an annulment?" Bella asks me, shocked, and I just nod, happy that she'll never know the full extent of what transpired.

She doesn't need to go through that.

Mimicking her earlier gesture, I slip off my metaphorical engagement ring, wincing a little at the pain of using my mangled hand. My attention is solely on her expression as she sees me do it.

_This is why. This is the why that covers everything._

I move to hold her warm, lithe body between my arms, stuffing my face in her hair just so I can disappear. And even though this intensity isn't quite enough for me to handle just yet, it makes me insanely happy that I can do this and that she's sighing into my chest, such a strong woman that nothing - not even me - will ever reduce to ash. Stepping away, craving some time for thought, I finally make my way into the living room, aghast and seeking rest on the couch, but stop short on my way there.

Bella lit the fireplace.

I now understand the warmth and scent in the air - burning wood. She lit it for me, hoping I would come tonight, and my throat clogs up at the thought of her sitting on that couch, waiting for my phone call.

The coals are almost finished burning, incandescent and casting an orange and bright golden glow that floods the room.

I go sit by them on the couch, hoping she understands I need the comfort and hope the sight delivers, and she lets me do it, silently accepting it.

"And your parents?"

I close my eyes, knowing that all the tact in the world won't make this delivery easier:

"My mother cried. My father just stood there in his suit, shushing her and looking at me like I was his worst disappointment."

It was one of the lowest lows of my life, but I can't make myself say that too.

"Your sister? Your friends?"

"Alice was upset, but supportive. She helped me talk to most of the catering people, the photographer and so on. I gave her and Jasper the plane tickets for the honeymoon as a thank you." For a second, I relive what Emmett told me, and decide to say nothing.

The extent of what I had to deal with is bad enough, but his words make me remember all we have yet to face and, right now, I just can't.

I keep my eyes shut until I feel Bella sitting beside me, gasping.

"What happened to your hand... your face?"

I touch my slightly swollen and sore cheek, remembering the slap.

"That was Tanya."

"You got into a fist fight with Tanya?!"

"No, of course not... She lost her cool and slapped me, but that was it. This beautifully broken hand," I point out, raising it to eye level, "happened when I punched Emmett after I lost _my _cool." I explain, and there's something to be said about the fact that she isn't laughing. She just sighs and goes about inspecting the damage before turning away from me.

I'm offered a bag of frozen peas for my bruised hand after what only feels like a couple of seconds. Bella also talks to me about dinner, but I'm not hungry.

I feel guilty about not taking this moment to spew promises I have every intention of delivering, but I can't. I pull both of her hands so that they rest between my own, on my lap, and I caress them, no words left in me.

I can't kiss her and I can't take her on this couch again tonight as a way to dull the pain. It doesn't feel right yet, and maybe it will take a while, but how am I supposed to tell her that?

"We've been friends for a long time," I hear her say, and my head snaps up to look at her. "And today we went through a lot. _You _went through a lot, especially, and it wouldn't be realistic to expect..." she starts, but pauses, re-evaluating her own words. "All I'm saying is, today was a very long day. It's definitely for the best that we take things slow, taking into account not only that but also the fact that we haven't really talked to each other in six months and that this is all so new. It doesn't change anything, we're just giving ourselves time for this to stop feeling wrong and awkward."

"As always, you're right," I accede, grateful, and pull her close. "Thank you."

The couch is comfortable and the room is warm; I can feel Bella beside me, her heartbeat and the crack and snap of burning remnants of wood the only sounds as I let myself slide away to sleep and oblivion.

~*~

_Bella  
_  
It was late by the time Edward called. It was late enough for relief to wash over me - I started to believe he wouldn't hours ago.

He told me very little, just asking me if he could come by and spend the night. Of course I agreed.

And even though he obviously didn't get married, his voice on the phone wasn't the joyous or, at the very least, relieved sound that I might expect.

He sounded sad. Defeated.

Love conquers all. I believe in it because I am a victim of it - we both are. Tanya and Mike, too.

We're victims of a sickness so deep, so ingrained, so addictive, that somehow, someday, it would always come to this.

Deception, breaks and separation.

And the sickness washes away the guilt with hope for a future where this can live without being wrapped in shame and surrounded by shards of all that was damaged.

_I've spent too many hours waiting. My sanity is hanging by a thread._

I opened the door for him to enter, a glum shadow, and he greeted me with a kiss on the forehead, just as he parted me this morning.

"How was it?" he asked me, staring at my right hand. For a second, his face twisted and morphed, seeing another man's ring still on my finger, but I did this on purpose.

I wanted him to see.

I held up my hand for him and slid the platinum band off my white skin, until there was nothing, not even the softest line, that ever spoke to its presence.

It's as if it was never there.

I held it in my left palm before putting it on top of the small table by the door.

He did the same for me, trying to give back in the same measure, as we'd always done for each other.

And it hurt to see him and talk to him.

I made an effort to ask how it all went - focusing on what I knew mattered to him. I wasn't going to ask about the photographer or the florist or the damn tailor. I had to ask about his parents, his sister, his best friend. His ex-fiancé.

But for all he had gone through in one day, Edward wasn't up to sharing. He gave me only short quips that I was to take as replies, pain still evident in every syllable, every wound up muscle on his back and every little twitch of his face, lids drawn shut as night over his eyes that would tell me all.

All I could do was observe him as he took in the fireplace and plopped down on my couch, tired and worn, staring at the glowing embers until sleep claimed him.

Still sitting beside him, I sigh, staring at his swollen hand, knowing it will turn every interesting shade of purple in the spectrum over the next few days. For such an educated man, my Edward always had a way of losing his temper.

At least it was Emmett, so I'm guessing his shot did no or next to none damage.

I re-adjust the pack of frozen peas over his hand, wrapping it in a cloth and tying it over his palm so it will stay on during his fitful sleep.

I grab a bowl of apples and bananas, some fresh scones I baked myself and two small packs of juice and lay this improvised banquet on the little coffee table, hoping he'll at least show some signs of an appetite during the night, if he wakes up.

I nudge him, with as much care as I can muster, so he'll lie down, and cover him with a nice big blanket, thick and heavy, the way he likes it.

As soon as I'm done, I run through my mind, trying to decide what else I can do, but come up short.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I watch him sleep, feeling helpless and fitfully restless.

I want to do anything. Everything. _More._

I'd cut out a limb if it would help with this whole situation we've gotten ourselves into. But that, in all honestly, _I _truly believe to have gotten _him _into.

He was always about grand gestures, and somehow, deep inside me, lies the need to do something. Even knowing I've already broken up with Mike and taken him in, and that it's all I can do.

It just doesn't feel enough.

_He's so tired._

Edward sighs in his sleep, bringing me from my stupor to really see the man in front of me. He seems so unbelievably worn and fragile and broken.

He took on the world for me today.

And as much as I can feel the pride well up inside of me, my tears speak of my guilt for doing this to him. _Am I truly a good thing in his life? Was this truly for the best?_

I have no perspective, today.

Right now, it just hurts to see him sleep, exhausted and beaten, and all I can do is swallow my tears and run my hands through his hair, unable to tear myself away.

The flames finally extinguish, and we're bathed in the blackness and facelessness of night.

I can't tear myself away, and maybe that's where my answer lies.

Everything and anything. My all. That's what I'm willing to give him, that's how much I love him, and I know him to be deserving of, at least, that much.

If only he's reborn from his ashes.


	9. His Awakening

**A/N: Thank you so much for the support I received – I know, it's been a while since I last updated, but the next chapter will come swiftly. This one was hindered by a lot of long, long hours of work.**

**Also, feel free to check out a two-part one shot I recently posted – The Bunk Bed Diaries.**

**Pippapear will always get props for being a character I'd never write – she'd be too perfect to be believable.**

_Edward_

I'm awake somewhat confused and sore to a fucking alcohol-less hangover. Groaning, I turn to the food Bella undoubtedly left for me, wondering where the hell she is and why is there a bag of peas wrapped around my purple knuckles.

Still in yesterday's clothes, which is becoming a seriously messed up habit, I move to undress and throw them in the washer. I am a simple man with simple aspirations: getting clean pajamas and sliding into Bella's guest bedroom bed, as soon as humanly possible while sporting an inhuman headache.

As I set the alarm on my cell phone, trying to make sure I won't sleep the whole damn day away, I see Emmett sent me one of his characteristically detailed texts: _call asap._

Like the dumb asshole I am, I do just that.

"Edward, where are you? How soon can you get here?" I hear him ask as soon as he picks up. No _hello, good morning, how are you _crap, that's nowhere in this Neanderthal's vocabulary.

"I'm at Bella's. And what are you talking about? I'm not scheduled to work this weekend, I have the whole damn week off."

"You did, because you were getting married. Now, your absence is not that well justified, is it?"

"It doesn't fucking matter," I grumble. "No one can expect for me to show my face there today."

There's a pause before he dramatically delivers the next piece of information:

"Well, Tanya showed up."

_She did_?

I'm more than a little surprised at that - and even as I mentally salute her for her effort to get back on her feet so soon, it also makes me take a long, hard look at what my work experience will be from now on.

But it could be worse.

She could work on my division. As my boss.

The last thought makes me cringe.

"Whatever, man," I finally answer, "I'm not going. I'm taking a sick day. I'll call Banner next, let him know."

"No worries, I'll keep your ass covered," he assures me, disgustingly jovial, the lucky bastard that got married to the right girl straight out of High School.

"Thanks, Em."

"Oh, and how's that hand? Up for another round against my jaw anytime soon?"

I flip the cell phone shut after verbally flipping him off; at the moment, he's the least of my problems.

~*~

_Bella_

Carrying an overstuffed shopping basket, I make my way along the alleys of the little supermarket, trying to figure out what I'm forgetting. I'm finally content after remembering Edward's favorite brand of yogurt - or, at least, it was his favorite, six months ago - and start angling for the checkout lines.

But, on my left, I notice something; biting my lip, I turn to the shelves. Stuffed in between the toothpaste and peroxide rest the condoms and the pregnancy tests.

_I have no idea if I'll be needing some of these. _

The condoms, of course, not the tests.

A part of me hasn't come to terms with everything that happened, and I did mean what I told Edward: time to process is just what we need. But, in all honesty... another part of me can't help but be hopeful that we _do _need condoms... soon.

I cringe at myself, thinking a bout of abstinence might just be what the doctor ordered.

I still throw that pack of condoms on top of my overflowing basket, ignoring the old lady holding the foot lotion and a reproving scowl.

With the Sunday morning rush, it takes me an hour to get home. Edward isn't lying on the couch, where I left him, but standing in his pajamas in front of my stove. The smell of grease is permeating the air, and my nose crinkles even as the sight soothes and welcomes me.

"Good morning," I greet him, not knowing what to expect of his mood.

"Morning," he answers, turning briefly with a half smile. Something has happened, I can tell.

"What's wrong?"

"Just cooking brunch."

He's forgotten how much I hate being dismissed. I sigh.

"That's not brunch. That's a heart attack on a frying pan."

"Give me a better alternative," he grumbles, using only his unwounded left hand and leaving a mess behind that proves just how ambidextrous he really isn't.

I move behind him and lay the groceries out side by side on the little kitchen isle, by the sink. "I have blueberries; I could make us some pancakes. I also got your yogurt - and that nasty, overly acidic coffee you love so much. Want me to grind some?"

"You don't need to do that."

I needn't turn to see my offer has done little for him - all I can do is ignore the crushing want to lock my arms against his waist and rest my head on his shoulder-blades, just to hear him breathe and soothe him.

"What is it, Edward? Just tell me," I beg, knowing all about his tendency to quietly, but quite obviously, ruminate his every frustration.

"It's Sunday and I'm having brunch with you. What does that tell you?"

His clipped commentary makes sense.

"I know you usually have Sunday brunch with your parents but... I'm sure they didn't mean to shut you out," I try reassuring him, "this whole situation was just unexpected, Alice isn't even in the country, and, knowing your parents, they're on the phone, doing damage control."

_The damage we caused, _I mentally add.

He groans out an unconvincing "you're probably right" that let's me know there's _nothing _I can do for him.

So I just pile strips of bacon on top of an oversized slice of toast and watch, slightly disgusted, the male version of emotional eating.

~*~

_Edward_

Monday comes around, after a Sunday that consisted mostly of moping and _not _talking to Bella about anything of importance, and I'm just so relieved. Obscenely relieved.

I thought I'd have problems with my family, but not getting invited to brunch was... I don't know. There's no record of it in our family history. Not even when my mother was convinced I'd knocked up one of my girlfriends - which, turns out, just had an unhealthy relationship with Mexican food - she skipped our weekly tradition. Not even when she was in the hospital after her knee surgery and, let me tell you, two large men holding platters of pancakes might just have been the strangest thing those nurses in Orthopedics have ever seen.

I'm not just a spoiled 20-something-kid.

I'm not just worried about what they think of me - I'm worried about what happens now. I can't very well hide Bella and what we have, or are on our way to having, but, on the reverse of it, introducing her as my girlfriend so shortly after the whole "there-won't-be-a-wedding-anymore" fiasco is bordering on unacceptable.

I was still hoping I'd have the chance to do it, even if it involved removing all the sharp utensils from the table beforehand.

And this is why Monday is glorious. Monday I get to forget about this whole mess, also known as my personal life, and shut it outside my company's building. Today I get to address architectural issues with other people's houses and office buildings, and just be a coffee-inhaling part of the big, beautiful corporate machine I always said I wouldn't get caught working for.

Monday is good. _Sorry, Garfield._

The plans for the new Victorian-inspired mansion three months away from being born on the outskirts of town lay before me on my desk; my project assistant isn't here - I gave him the week off, thinking I would be off myself - so there's more work to keep me distracted.

My hand is still sore, but only slightly swollen, which enables me to work with ease. I'm so caught up on getting things done that I don't even hear my boss as he approaches me.

"Cullen."

"Good morning, sir," I manage out, sitting up straighter. The older man looks distraught, as if he was being forced to do something against his will.

"Before we discuss anything, I just wanted to thank you for coming to work today. McCarthy told me... Well, it doesn't matter," he changes the subject, and I'm suddenly alarmed. _What the hell did that big idiot use as an excuse? _"It shows dedication. And I know you've always done a good job here. I just need you to assure me that these personal issues won't interfere with this office."

I nod, understanding his point.

_Tanya._

"Of course, sir. Everything that isn't work-related will stay outside the building, as far as I'm concerned."

I watch him nod and start discussing the first floor plans just as quickly as one flips a dime, turning back to his «kid with a box of crayons» personality.

For the first time since Friday night, when I finally broke down just enough to call the best friend who'd abandoned me, the woman I love more than life itself, I feel like things are _normal._

And normal has never sounded as good, no matter how much I love Bella and how much I don't regret it.

I'm doing a good job of showing Banner just how dedicated I am when Emmett comes in, his shoes squeaking as he stops, undoubtedly having spotted our boss.

"Yes, McCarthy?" the older man asks, with a hint of a scowl.

"Ehrm... Sir, Edward is needed in the copy room."

"The copy room? Why?" I ask, confused.

"There's a problem. Big problem. You need to come now," my big lug of a friend demands, his face serious for a change, and I apologize profusely to Banner before leaving my office.

"You better not have gotten anything stuck on that copier, yet again..." I start to growl at him as we walked the corridors.

"I didn't."

"This better be the end of the world, Emmett, or I'll..."

"Punch me in the face?" he suggests, making me sigh in anger, avoiding balling my hand in a fist. That would have really hurt, reminding me just how unable I was to cause him any physical damage. "Trust me, you'll thank me for coming to get you."

As soon as I catch sight of the room, at the very end of the long corridor carpeted in crimson, I finally realize what he means.

Losing my ability to keep walking as I process the image, I stop dead in my tracks.

In the dim light of the small room, I can just make out the two women, facing away from me. One has unmistakable red hair, artificially straightened; the other, shorter, is a few steps behind, and I'll be damned if I haven't memorized the exact shape of her back and brown curls.

I can hear words being exchanged between the two of them, and Emmett turns back to give Banner yet another piss-poor excuse.

I'm not even that upset about how this whole thing will affect me at work - I can't even think about it. I'm frozen in shock and utter disbelief, in that sort of twisted fascination one would feel while watching a train wreck.

Because that's what this is.

_So much for normal._


End file.
